The Secret
by Firewhisky-Black
Summary: When the hungry go unfed for years, and the knowledge of magic reach greedy ears, An orphan finds himself in a world free of strife, Where he may possibly discover the Secret to... ...Everlasting Life. (Appearing Characters include, Riddle Sr., Morfin Gaunt, Helena Ravenclaw, Peter Pettigrew, read to find out more.)
1. The Secret

The Secret

"What can't be spoken, must be read,

Inking secrets, late night in bed,

But words like these must not be said,

Lest finding students, broken and dead."

During the day, the corridors of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry were filled with the hustle and bustle of everyday activity. Corridors filled with teachers going from one place to another, students late to classes, owls flying to and fro, ghosts floating about lazily, and of course Peeves, everyone's favorite unrelenting poltergeist.

However, when the moon was high and the stars were out the school was more often than not quiet. The halls that echoed at the smallest sound left any wanderer feeling skittish and paranoid. Only the occasional teacher or prefect could be found patrolling the corridors for any student that may take a mid-night stroll.

The moon peeked up over the horizon as Tom Riddle's quill caressed the parchment of his black leather-bound diary. A few muttered words of a spell caused the already private words to seep into the porous confessional. He stood from his desk, tucked his wand and diary in his pocket and left to secure the halls of what he called home. He went about his route like he did every night: through the dungeons, up the stairwell, into the main hall and then down again. However, this time after making two passes of his usual walk, he deviated from the dungeon and continued up the stairs, following the new path that he had memorized to the female lavatory.

The lavatories were never locked at night. He stepped inside casually as if he had every right to be there. Stopping to run two fingers across the crafted design of a carved snake that ran the length of the faucet, he took a step back. He began to hiss and hush, watching as a large passage-way appeared where the sink used to be, the shadows below slowing uncurling in answer to his hiss. The latch of the stall furthest from the door suddenly clinked open and Tom's head slowly turned. His view obstructed by a huge monstrous head and a coiled sinewy body, he heard a soft cry and then silence. Stepping around his pet, Tom Riddle looked indifferently at the girl who had collapsed onto the cold stone floor, her tears still fresh on her cheeks.

A tingling in Tom's fingers alerted him to the finished product of the night's task, the sizzling dark magic in his pocket tickling his pale skin pleasantly. He was pleased at this unexpected opportunity and relished the way the universe continued to bend to his pleasure. Taking a deep breath, he hissed again and the mysterious monster slid back into the dark passage, the doors closing behind it.

Tom then turned his eyes to the pitiful girl on the floor. Kneeling beside her, he took her chin in his hand and turned it this way and that with clinical curiosity. Her skin still felt hot from sobbing, her final act. The first death he had truly witnessed, how curious and boring. His work done, he stood up briskly and strode to the door. Without a single glance back, he left her to rot in her own indignity.


	2. The Engagement

The Engagement

"Once was masked, love deceived,

Now lonely son, silently grieved,

Comforting family he did not find,

In his return, from being left behind,

Enraged by his loss, of so long ago,

Revenge is here, they all must go."

On a warm summer day, a small town such as Little Hangleton would usually be busy. With its occupants shopping, talking, or simply enjoying the warm sun. But today the town was quiet and still as if something kept them in their homes. This something made his way up the dirt path of Little Hangleton. The sound of his footsteps dulled by the dusty path as he reached the small door of broken down shack on the edge of town.

The stranger wrinkled his nose in disgust. Someone had nailed a dead snake to the door of the hut. Though the rotted carcass and termite eaten door told him that it had been some time since. The stranger tapped the rusted remnants of a doorknob with his wand and it slowly swung inward.

"You! Out! Get out!" A voice bellowed angrily from the straining frame of an armchair. The stranger did not respond right away and when the vicious looking resident shot a spell at him he blocked it with ease. The attacker jumped back a little in surprise.

"Where's Marvolo Gaunt?" The stranger asked,

"Dead."

"So who are you?"

"Morfin."

"Marvolo's son?"

"Who else?" Morfin grunted through his unkempt beard. He shifted this way and that, digging into what was left of the seat cushion to put as much distance as he could between him and the stranger. "You look like him."

"Who?" The stranger asked,

"That muggle. That filthy muggle up the hill." The stranger's gaze turned to look out the window which was blackened with dust and mold at the large house on the hill Morfin was referring to.

"The one my sister ran off with. Disgraced us she did. Dumb little squib, filthy little blood traitor." Morfin's words trailed off into a string of hisses and hushes as if he had forgotten he was talking to someone other than himself. The stranger walked toward Morfin, who remembering he wasn't alone, suddenly realized how much danger he was in. The stranger planted his hands on either side of Morfin's bulk as he hissed back, making Morfin's eyes only widen more. "You speak it?"

"Yes, I speak it…" He continued, "So think before you speak, you never know who you're talking to." A shot of red light erupted from the stranger's wand, leaving Morfin unconscious.

Not a single sound escaped from beyond the walls of the Gaunt's cottage. A moment or so later the stranger left the shack and continued up the path toward the large manor on the hill, pocketing Morfin's wand and twisting a small ring onto his finger that was not there when he had entered.

The Riddle House sat overlooking the small village of Little Hangleton. Tall and wide, it cast an imposing shadow that outshined any manor for miles around. It was a rustic red brick with polished wood window frames to match the massive door and accented with not-so-tasteful flourishes and swirls as if whoever had designed it had gotten a little carried away.

The shutters were open to let in the bright sun of the day, but the only one to see the stranger ascending the path to the door was the groundskeeper from his little cottage, who thought nothing of it.

Tom Riddle Sr. sat on the sofa in the lounge reading. His mother and father sitting casually in chairs across from him. His father reading the paper and his mother drinking tea as the front door gave a soft creaking noise.

Tom looked up at the sound, not expecting to see anything and found himself face to face with an exact replica of himself. Tom frowned and stood up, "Identify yourself" he ordered. The stranger didn't bother to answer.

Both Tom's parents made to stand, but before they could move a muscle they fell to the floor with a flash of green. "Out! Out I say!" Tom ordered, but no matter the forcefulness of his words he could not hide the terror that was building in his chest. The stranger walked to the couch and sat down, crossing a leg over the other knee and staring at his father.

"Good Afternoon." The stranger said. Even though the stranger's voice was calm, it made Tom feel sick to his stomach. He glanced over at his parents. His father's body slumped out of his chair and the chair slid across the floor to Tom. "Please." The stranger said tapping his wand casually on the arm of the couch, "Sit." He wanted to refuse, but something told him that doing so would be ill advised.

"Who are you?" Tom asked as calmly as he could.

"We will get to that momentarily." The stranger said, "But first, I wanted to ask you what you know of the Gaunt family."

Tom grimaced,

"And why would you think I would know anything about that lot?" He asked callously. His bitterness toward the Gaunt's most evident.

"Let's call it intuition for now. Tell me." Refusal, Tom thought, was likely not in his best interest.

"There is a father, son and daughter. All of them are lunatics. Screaming and throwing things and who knows what else. Always something with them." He said. The stranger tapped his fingers lightly on the arm of the couch,

"The daughter, tell me about her?"

Tom's nose wrinkled in disgust,

"Disgusting, pathetic, wormy… that whole family should be locked away." His voice slowly trailed off. "You… You're her son!" He said in an outburst of realization.

The stranger's lips curled into a wicked grin, he stood from his seat and walked toward Tom.

"And what a terrible father you have been."

With another green flash, Tom Riddle fell at his son's feet, a look of shocking realization permanently frozen on his face.

Tom Marvolo Riddle felt the cool metal of his new ring heat up and tingle angrily around his finger. Tom looked at the bodies for a moment, before turning from the scene and locking the front door behind him.


	3. His Coronation

His Coronation

"Once a sweet and charming boy,

Now shriveled and black, not a drop of joy,

To pride himself on his cunning mind,

He harnesses knowledge for another dark bind."

The Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw House, made her way down the stairs to a small unused corridor. She floated about this corridor when she was feeling more melancholy than usual. It was a nice little place that led into an indoor courtyard and although there was no sun there was a patch of grass and plants that grew pleasantly around a cast iron bench. She liked to sit on the bench and wallow silently alone, but today she was not alone. A student had followed her into her solitude.

"Oh, Tom, it is only you." She said looking up from her seat, her voice a little more sweet and warm then one would expect from a ghost. Tom smiled back and nodded. Tom was very handsome. With dark hair and eyes and a kind smile. He held his arms casually behind his back as he spoke,

"I did not mean to intrude, I was just hoping to join you." He said, having yet to step into the small courtyard. She smiled appreciatively,

"You're not intruding dear, you are welcome to join me." She did not speak with many students. In fact, most of her time was spent deliberately ignoring them, but she had become very fond of Tom, he wasn't like the other students. He seemed to care about her as if she were still alive, as if she was a person and not just the shadow of one. Tom stepped into the courtyard and sat down next to her on the bench. They sat in silence for a few minutes before she spoke again.

"I do not understand you, Tom." She said softly.

He smiled and looked at her curiously.

"What do you mean?" he asked with a little chuckle.

"Well" she began, "you are a youthful, handsome Slytherin boy with many friends and yet you take time to sit here with me and I do not understand why."

Tom smiled, and took a moment to think before he answered. "I think perhaps it is because I know how it feels to be alone, and I don't think anyone should have to feel that way. You will be here long after I am gone, the least I can do is keep you company with the days that I have to offer you."

A small silvery tear rolled down the ghost's cheek,

"I do not know what to say." She said with a small smile of disbelief, "Only to be even more confused as to why you are not in Ravenclaw." Tom laughed a little,

"Perhaps I should be." He said smiling at her.

"It would be a nice change from the drafty dungeon rooms." He added. It was her turn to laugh a little, then they both fell silent again,

"Thank you." The Grey Lady said after a while. Tom nodded and they were silent again,

"May I ask you something?" Tom asked. The Grey Lady nodded

"What's your real name?" The ghost looked a little taken-aback. She knew Tom to be very clever, and many students had guessed before now.

"Oh Tom, have you not a guess?" She asked with a slight giggle.

Tom smiled. "I do, but I thought it would be more polite to ask rather than point out possibilities without invitation."

"Well, I invite you." She said with another giggle.

Tom looked over at her. "My guess would be Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena Ravenclaw's daughter."

The Grey Lady nodded.

"Very good." She said, "A pleasure to meet you."

Tom chuckled, but then his smile faltered,

"Helena, do you mind if I ask you a more personal question?" Helena looked curiously at him and nodded, "How did you pass away?"

She looked a bit solemn now, looking down at the grass.

"I didn't mean to offend you." Tom added quickly, "I was just curious, you don't have to answer."

She looked back up at him.

"No, no, it's fine dear, I just… no one has shown such personal interest in me before. It's nice. Most people have just badgered me about where her wretched diadem is." At this she looked over at him suspiciously, his smile always so genuine and sweet.

"Your death has to do with her diadem them?" He asked and she giggled,

"As clever as ever I see, yes, my death begins with my thievery of her famed diadem..."

And Helena told Tom her tale. About how she stole the diadem and how, after she ran away, her mother became ill and sent an old lover of Helena's to go find her, and in the conflict of their meetings he killed her, and then himself out of remorse.

"When I heard his voice, I hid my mother's diadem in an old greying tree in the woods, thinking that she had sent the Baron to get it back from me. A foolish girl I was." Tom nodded, and then tilted his head.

"Wait, Baron? He asked. "As in the Bloody Baron?"

Helena nodded.

"He wears his chains as punishment for what he did to me, as he should." She said angrily,

Tom nodded again,

"He is right to punish himself. It is a heinous crime to take such a beauty from the world. Though, I would be lying if I said I wish you were resting peacefully." He added.

Helena looked at him in surprise.

"Because I wouldn't be able to keep you company." he said.

Helena snorted. "You charmer" she teased.

And he laughed.

Deep in the forests of Albania, the sun began to set between the trees, filling the forests with an evening mist colored with the orange golden light of the sun. A shadow broke the light's veil, a figure walking among the ancient trees. His cloak disturbed the mist, making it billow around him as he moved silently.

He paced the lines of old growth and then stopped in front of an old greying tree with a hole in its side, perhaps where a squirrel had made its home. The stranger rolled back the sleeve of his cloak and reached inside and as he suspected his fingers touched the cold feeling of metal. He smiled to himself, as his long, pale fingers closed around it to pull it free from its earthly confines.

The metal turned out to be an old Diadem that must have been there for years, if not centuries and yet it showed no signs of tarnish, no signs of wear. He let the hood of his traveling cloak fall back as he slipped the Diadem on his head. Combing it neatly into his hair, before replacing his hood back over his head. Having found what he came for he made his way out of the forest, at the edge of which he unexpectedly ran into a young peasant woman,

"Excuse me, where might I find the nearest town?" He asked, his tone soft and kind. His smile was dangerous, and held an undeniable allure. The young woman blushed and pointed off to the south. So taken aback by this man that she could not find her voice which served her ill. Though it would not have done her much good as a flash of green light left her at his feet, lifeless.

He stepped over her corpse as the Diadem gave an inaudible scream, invaded by a vicious dark force, making the power already within it tingle and writhe. The stranger's face showed no signs of pain, but his body slowed for a moment as if something hindered his movement.


	4. A Toast

A Toast

"Another success and why not celebrate,

To sip and eat, from a bronze cup and plate

A revel unrivaled, a dance of deadly grace,

With a lady long dead and a lifeless face."

In the house of Hepzibah Smith towered years and years of collecting that bordered on hoarding if it weren't for the fact that the objects as a whole could've rivaled the Black Family wealth. She had so many objects there was hardly any room to move around. And on the order of Mr. Borgin of Borgin and Burke's Tom Riddle sat scrunched between a display case of old china and another of gold trinkets. He gave Hepzibah a smile as a tray of tea was set out, and she said,

"I wouldn't sell these to anyone, not Borgin, no one. Had to have them though, for my private collection." Hepzibah was saying with a slight blush. She opened one of the wooden boxes she had next to her, in which sat a small solid bronze cup with a chested "H" inscribed on the front. Tom stared at it with genuine interest. "It belonged to Helga Hufflepuff. Priceless, no?" She said smiling, before putting it away and opening the other box,

"Indeed." Tom replied, as the next item caught his eye,

"This is my favorite, I bought it from Burke a while back." It was a heavy locket of gold, with a silver "S". This item had Tom hypnotized the moment he saw it. "Burke bought it from this poor woman for a steal of 10 galleons. Merlin knows where she got it." She continued.

Tom held the locket in his hands and a look appeared in his eyes that made Hepzibah suddenly very nervous. She placed the locket back in its box and looked at him curiously, "Are you alright dear?" Tom blinked as if he were coming out of some sort of trance.

"Oh, yes, I'm fine. Those were very impressive pieces." He said regaining his usually allure, "I imagine very much that Borgin would like them for his own collection. Today of course, I did come for a specific item." He said and Hepzibah nodded,

"Yes, Yes, of course. We aren't getting any younger are we?" She laughed, "Let me find that for you." She added, sending her house elf off to place her prized items in the safe and to find the item Tom had come for.

The next couple of days were quiet for Hepzibah. She drank tea, at cake and ordered her house elf around a bit. Her daughter had come by for some tea that afternoon, but the night was going to be like any other. Her and her treasures and her house elf.

She took a sip of tea, looking around at all her things with pride. The tea cup had barely reached her lips before the light tingle jingle of the doorbell sounded. She looked up and smiled,

"Well now, who could that be?" She asked no one, sending her house elf to get the door. Seeing who it was Hepzibah smiled brightly, "Oh Tom! What a nice surprise." Though her smile quickly faded as he looked up at her. His eyes were dark and gave off a strange reddish hue. "Are… Are you alright dear?"

Tom didn't answer, he just stared for a moment before a green flash illuminated the room. The eerie glow seemed to linger in the china and glass littered about the room. He moved to the safe and removed the cup and the locket and sat on the arm of the chair he had used the other day.

Summoning an old bottle of wine from her collection, he opened it and poured a tasteful amount of the crimson drink into the bronze cup. He brought the cup to his curled lips and let the cold metal tingle bitterly against his lower lip as the wine cascaded into his mouth and down his throat.

A shock of magic rolled angrily through him as he drank, but he showed no signs of pain. His skin began to whiten, but it was smooth and flawless, his hair thicker, his eyes still filled with a dark sickening glow. He took no notice of the bloated cake of a woman lying dead of the floor as he took in the offensive taste of his victory.


	5. In Memory

In Memory

"Another creation leaves him cold inside,

A symbol of the past, an image of pride,

But it also reminds him most every day,

Of those in his path that were left to decay."

Retracing his footsteps from childhood Tom Riddle made his way along a rocky, dirt path on the edge of the ocean. The wind was ragged and the salt off the surface stung the skin and hissed across the jagged edges of the cliff side. This weather did not bother him in the slightest, as he scanned the road for a path down to the cave he had come for.

Not far from this path was a small muggle village, where when he was a child they were given free clothing from the residences. This village was also only a few yards away from the cave

which was Tom's current destination. However, he needed something first.

He walked into the village and asked a resident where an Inn might be. They pointed and he followed their instructions to the small Inn, named the Amber Ale Cave. He made his way inside and sat at a table, there were one or two men sitting around as well as a few scantily clad females scattered about. One caught Tom's eye and walked seductively over to him.

"You're new around here." Tom nodded in response, "Are you lookin' for a night?" She asked. Tom smiled at her,

"I was looking for some company, yes." The young woman walked over, sat in his lap and smiled,

"Oh yeah? Wish all the men around here had a face like yours." She said, "Well, let's get a room." Tom shook his head,

"Actually I was hoping to take a walk first, if you wouldn't mind." She looked at him in confusion, then smiled,

"It's your night, so I'd love to darling." Tom smiled at her and motioned to the door. She got up and walked with him outside, where she instantly began to shiver.

"Here." Tom said, draping his coat over her shoulders. The woman couldn't help but blush.

"You're sweet. What makes a man like you end up out here?" Tom smiled over at her as they walked,

"Well, I visited here when I was younger and I found it to be so calming and relaxing that I came back." She giggled,

"I suppose it could be viewed that way. Though, a gal in my position has a hard time seeing its beauty." Tom nodded in understanding as they made their way up the little road. They got a good distance, before Tom began to slow down,

"Now, I want to explain. I don't have any money for tonight…" Her expression became somewhat aggravated as he was now wasting her time, "…but I was hoping that you could accept this instead." He said, and out of his pocket he retrieved a gold locket with a silver "S" inscribed on it. She had been about to argue until she saw it.

"Oh… honey, I don't know if I can accept that. It's gotta be worth more than me." He smiled kindly and unlatched the chain,

"A girl as beautiful as you, willing to keep me company in this dreary place is worth more than gold." He clasped it around her neck and brushed a finger down her chest. She went redder in the face than any cold wind could flush. Only having a moment of teary joy before a flash of green left her eyes empty and vacant.

He held the locket as she fell to the ground. The locket leaving her neck, the clasp unlatching on its own. Tom looked down at the girl with dark eyes. He suddenly clutched the locket as a sharp, aching pain rolled through his body. It took him a moment to recover from the pain, however when he did he turned and walked down into the soaked, black cave. His expression one of pained success.


	6. His Mistake

His Mistake

"An unexpected turn of events,

Has his fate offered prophecy penance,

To a power much stronger than his is alone,

Left to cower at the feet of his own throne."

The sky was pitch black in the late hours of Halloween. Thunder clapped overhead, lightning striking not so far away. A down pour ripping through the gardens of Godric's Hollow, where little Harry James Potter was having trouble sleeping.

James pushed his glasses up his nose in the sitting room of their home, looking up from his paper as his wife came down the stairs carrying their whimpering one year old. Lily smiled at her husband, "He wanted to see you." She said sweetly as Harry reached out for his father.

"Me?" James set down his paper and stood up from his chair, "Awe, what's up little guy. Not loving this storm eh?" Harry whimpered, wrapping his arms around his father's neck and burying his head in the strong chest. "Awe." He said chuckling, "Don't cry now, papa's here." Lily smiled affectionately at father and son. She kissed James' cheek,

"Should I make some tea? I'll warm some milk for Harry as well." James nodded,

"Tea would be lovely, thanks dear." He said softly. They both knew with a little warm milk it wouldn't take long for Harry to fall right to sleep.

An hour or so later both father and son had fallen asleep on the couch, with satisfied expressions. Lily gave a small giggle and carefully lifted the sleeping Harry into her arms. She made her way upstairs and lay Harry in his crib. All was quiet.

Downstairs as the storm rained harder and the thunder billowed, a cloaked figure slipped through the picket fence to the Potter's home. A jingling inside alerted a sleeping James, but by the time he stood up the front door had been blasted apart and Lord Voldemort glided in casually as if he had rang the doorbell. James ran to the base of the stairs,

"LILY RUN!" He cried out, Lily came running to the banister as a green light sent James flying, crashing into the stairs, lifeless.

"JAMES!" Lily ran into Harry's room and locking the door she stood in front of Harry as the Dark Lord ascended the stairs, over his victim. Lily was shaking her head, trying to wake from this nightmare as the bedroom door was blasted open and Harry woke wailing in fright.

"Stand aside, you silly girl… stand aside now." Lily shook her head again,

"Not Harry, please not Harry. Take me instead." Voldemort's eyes held no sympathy for the woman before him,

"This is your last warning." Lily continued to shake her head, tears rolling down her cheeks. Harry's scared cries mirroring his mother's fear.

"Not Harry! Please . . . have mercy . . . have mercy . . . Not Harry! Not Harry! Please- I'll do anything."

"Stand aside. Stand aside, girl!" Voldemort was more than capable of forcing her away from the crib, but his inpatients with her seemed to get the best of him. Another flash of green light and Lily Potter dropped like her husband.

Harry's whimpers and wails fell upon deaf ears as Voldemort approached the infant. Voldemort's gaze fell upon the child with no sign of remorse, with no hesitation. He raised his wand, another flash of green light. However, instead of falling like his parents had, Lord Voldemort let out a howling gasp of agonizing pain. His wand dropped to the floor as both child and man cried out in pain.

Voldemort's body crumpled to the floor beside Lily, though it did not stay there long. The body slowly disappeared and a shadow rose from the robes. Still wailing in agony, what was left of Lord Voldemort flew blindly out the window, leaving Harry to fall unconscious to the floor of his crib. A small lightning shaped cut on his forehead.


	7. His Only Friend

His Only Friend

"A last stitch effort at the end of his rope,

He casts one last spell in fear and hope,

But what's past is past, and at the end of the day,

No matter our strengths, we all pass away."

Out in world the forests of Albania had another visitor. The days were long, and the nights short as a witch named Bertha Jorkins made her way to the Wayside Inn.

"A bourbon on the rocks, if ya please gent." She said cheerfully, removing her jacket and sitting at the bar. The bartender nodded and set the glass in front of her. She smiled and handed him payment, before turning and looking about the pub. She frowned in curiosity as she recognized an old fellow student of hers. But it couldn't be, not Peter Pettigrew. She stood from her stood, bourbon in hand, she walked over to him. "Peter! It is you!" She exclaimed in astonishment. Peter jumped and looked about from his lonesome table.

"Oh-h-h… Bertha, I, I did not recognize you." He stammered in shock, as the woman sat across from him.

"Aren't you lively for bein' dead." She said suspiciously,

"Well, it's a really long story." He said, having collected his wits again. Bertha raised an eyebrow and downed her bourbon.

"I'd love ta hear it." She replied. Peter looked around cautiously and then back to her.

"Not here." He whispered, "Here, let's go for a walk and I'll tell you everything." Bertha, a sucker for a good story nodded, and grabbing her jacket from her stool, they headed out.

They walked for a little while, at first catching up on what she had been doing for the last few years since his death.

"Well, now that we've gone over me… how 'bout you? I'm I a light weight or are you not as dead as everyone thought?" Peter chuckled. As they had talked, unknowingly they had made their way deep into the forest and Peter gave her a smile,

"Well, I've been… here it's easier to show you." And with that, he pointed to a clearing. Curiously, she got closer not noticing that Peter had stopped following. Her gaze fell upon a pale face, and with eyes wide she let of a scream of terror. Lord Voldemort looked up and disarmed her with a flick of his wand.

"What a nice surprise." Came Voldemort's cold slithering voice.

Several hours later, Bertha lay shaking and moaning in pain on the forest floor. Cross-eyed and dazed, her mind quite gone, she lay there sputtering nonsense. "Perhaps once more for good measure." Voldemort said coolie, He signaled Peter. Who looking sick spoke the word, pointing his wand at the feeble, defenseless girl,

"Curcio." The spell hit Bertha hard. Weak from the hours and hours of unbearable pain, voice hoarse from her screams, cheeks wet and eyes red. All the noise Bertha could muster now was a weak pathetic whimper.

"Hmm…" Voldemort said, "I suppose we won't getting any more out of her." He said, as if lazily disappointed. "Wormtail?"

"Y-Yes my L-Lord?" Peter answered,

"Make preparations for Young Crouch's release. I require his assistance for our plans to be successful." Peter nodded vigorously. Voldemort's deformed lips twisted into what one could only imagine was a smile. "This time I will finish him off once and for all, and I will come back. Stronger and more powerful than anyone ever before me. Now Wormtail rid the world of this worthless thing." Peter looked like he might vomit, but spoke again,

"Avada Kadavra." With a flash of eerie green, and what light was left vanished from Bertha's face. A moment passed as Voldemort's body writhed a little in pain. Eyes flashing and a quiet groan, Voldemort let out a hiss and hush,

"Nagini…" He drawled. The massive snake weaved his way around Voldemort and he caressed the creature's scaled body, "Feast." The large reptile slithered slowly to the body of Bertha and soon the poor woman was nothing but the vicious things meal.


End file.
